I thought I told my son to be careful. He, his dad, and I stood at the edge of an auto lot. Behind us was a weed-choked, seventy-degree angled, twenty-foot drop. We heard the salesman's pitch under the new minivan's open tailback door. Then the salesmen pulled the door down. My special needs boy stepped back. He disappeared.

My boy hurtled backwards, head over heels, head over heels in fetal position. A hot day he wore a light tee shirt, shorts, and black flip-flops. Berry suckers and thistle thorns easily poked and tore into his flesh.

Thirty-eight scratches and 100 punctures swelled and oozed from my son's left leg.

His dad slid down the bank and thought, "I am going too fast," as sunglasses ejected from his pocket. Eight feet from the bottom he stopped and bent over the son I could not see.

Dad helped maneuver our son around the bramble bushes to the top of the hillside and into the showroom to wash up. Our boy had wounds that would scar. But the somber salesman was relieved. I was relieved and surprised.

My son had no sprains; he did not break a single bone.

In a holy garden the first created son and daughter disregarded their Father's warning, and, as a result, took a fatal tumble. Like them, I fall into a mess after I heed selfish urgings over my Father's perfect ways and warnings. He still chooses to pursue me, and every fallen child.

God the Father sent the Spirit-readied Son down to earth. Metal-tipped scourges, a twist of thorns, and pounded stakes tore the flesh of Jesus. Lifeblood poured from his back, head, hands, feet, and side. Onlookers didn't need to break any bones to hasten death. And the all-knowing Father was not surprised when that Son rose from death with scars for all to touch and to believe.

Ponder and trust those scars, that shed blood--God's love-in-action for many.

"This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many . . ." Matthew 26:28 (NIV)

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